“Please collect them all in one room.”
All, except Doctor Svetilovitch, were compelled to go into the dining-room, which now became crowded and uncomfortable. Armed constables were placed at both doors—the one entering the hall and the other the dining-room—as well as in all the corners. Their faces were dull, and their guns seemed unnecessary and absurd in these peaceful surroundings—but then the guests felt even more uncomfortable.
A detective looked out from time to time from the drawing-room door. He looked searchingly into the faces. The look he had on his disagreeable face with its white eyebrows and eyelashes gave the impression that he was sniffing the air.
In the drawing-room the Colonel of the gendarmerie was saying to Doctor Svetilovitch:
“And now, M. Svetilovitch, will you be so good as to tell me with what object you have arranged this gathering?”
Doctor Svetilovitch replied with an ironic smile:
“With the object of dancing and dining, nothing more. You can see for yourself that we are all peaceable folk.”
“Very well,” said the Colonel in an authoritative, rude tone. “Are the names and families of all gathered here with the object you state known to you?”
Doctor Svetilovitch shrugged his shoulders in astonishment and replied:
“Of course they are known to me! Why shouldn’t I know my own guests? I believe you know many of them yourself.”